More Waiting

Let's back up to a day before all this happened. I was walking through the hall in our church building when a friend caught me. "What do you really NEED?," She asked. She expressed her philosophy of helping and her own limitations but then clearly stated that she wanted to be available for the things that wouldn't necessarily be top of mind in the needs category post surgery. At the time I didn't know what to expect in the coming weeks so we discussed her being "on call" for the unexpected. In the course of the conversation I told her that the biggest thing I could think of would be to reach out any time God put me on her mind. Over the years I've come to see that God will often put people on my mind at key times. Times when they were specifically going through something difficult and needed prayer. I felt comfortable requesting her to stop what she was doing and pray any time that God brought me to mind and to reach out with texts of encouragement. We parted ways and life went on.

Over the last two weeks I've never felt forgotten. At least one sweet friend has touch based every day. However, there have been several very specific occasions where these messages have directly reminded me that God hears my cries, sees my tears and knows my hurt. One such example occurred last week when my pathology report came through. As I was reading the report and calling my doctor I received several messages from friends letting me know that I was on their hearts and that they were praying for me. They had no way of knowing how dark the moments were. Ironically, one of them was the very friend I had chatted with in the hall. Another such situation happened yesterday when I was preparing to take my first shower since the surgery. The idea of the water touching my surgery site was terrifying and I was fighting down tears as we began preparing the shower. As I stood up to walk toward the bathroom, tears streaming down my face, my phone buzzed and a far away friend said, "What can I do?" I asked her to pray for me fervently over the next 15 minutes as I tried to irrationally overcome my fear of the shower. 

As I stepped into the shower I whispered, "God heard, God sees, God knows." My shower was uneventful other than tears because, in all honesty, tears are a constant part of seeing my butchered body right now. Yet, what was happening in my soul was the polishing of a precious gem. You see, even though I was feeling massive waves of grief, anger and fear I was also finding a greater confidence in God's ever present help as each wave receded. I was being reminded that God not only knew about my pain but was tangibly showing me his intimate involvement in the process by impressing me on people's minds. Those friends in turn were unknowingly exalting God's compassion by reaching out in that moment. 

It reminded me of Exodus 2:23-25 in which an oppressed and enslaved people were crying out to God for rescue. Their groaning did not just dissipate into a cosmic wasteland but reverberated through the throne room of God. "Their cry for rescue from slavery came up to God. And God heard their groaning, and God remembered His covenant with Abraham, with Isaac, and with Jacob. God saw the people of Israel - and God knew." The final word of this verse is not just a head knowledge or a receiving of new intelligence but appears throughout the Bible in relation to sexual intercourse. It was a knowledge that was so deep, so intimately connected, that it was as though the complaint brought before Him was a personal offence against himself. God has not changed and the cries of His beloved daughter are of no less importance. My tears, whether silent streams or accompanied by groans, are heard, seen...and known. 

I'm so thankful that God doesn't get worn out from my groans because there have been a lot of them. Today I had a phone call with my General Surgeon and did not receive the answers I was hoping for. Currently my tumour is undergoing further testing to determine the type of cancer that I have. Yes, have. The Doctor believes that he will have the results from that report by this time next week. In addition, I am to have an ultrasound of the lymph nodes in my left side to check for any concerns. Once this information is collected my case will be presented to the Tom Baker Tumour Board on the evening of February 6th. The Doctor was clear that my case is "complex." He was also clear that there will be some course of treatment though we will not know what that will be until February 7th when I meet with him. So I continue to wait. I've worked through a lot of feelings today. Thankfully my parents are amazing counselors and helped me process through a lot of varied thoughts this morning. In that processing I have recognized that I must define "wait" not as a worried, toe tapping, impatient stance in a week long line. No, this is the patient, quiet, resting "wait" that happens when you have full assurance that you have been heard, seen and known by the God of the universe. 

When I went into that OR two weeks ago I knew life was going to look different for a few weeks but I never dreamed that all of this would unfold. I sit tonight recognizing that life isn't going to look the same for a long time...or maybe ever. I didn't hear, "We got it all! You're clear and good to go!" Rather, decisions are going to have to be made. Routines will be adjusted. Priorities are going to need rearranging. I suddenly have to reserve energy to fight for my life on top of being a mom to three tiny humans and a wife to the love of my life. But as I look ahead I have a confident hope that God has heard my cry, has seen my tears and knows my circumstance better than anyone else. He has already begun to act on behalf of His beloved. So we wait.